


Newfound Hands

by NovaBrunswick, NovaScotiaxNewBrunswick (NovaBrunswick)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Project Canada
Genre: Brothers America & Canada (Hetalia), Canada, Canadian Provinces, Gen, Historical Hetalia, Male Pregnancy, Mpreg, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5204009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaBrunswick/pseuds/NovaBrunswick, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaBrunswick/pseuds/NovaScotiaxNewBrunswick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1949. Canada learns that he's to have a new province join his Confederation, and England, France, Ireland, Newfoundland and all his other province and territory kids are behind him all the way. The new province is born, and they give all they have to make sure he's a happy, healthy province, Canada's biggest wish. What will this new province face in his young life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada finds out he'll be having a new province join his Confederation.

Canada looked at the strip in his hand. It showed two periwinkle-blue stripes in the little window. “Could this be…?” he wondered, his heart beating slowly. Thrilled, he ran into his bedroom to wake up England, France, Ireland and Newfoundland (soon to be Newfoundland Sr.).

“England, France, Ireland, Newfoundland! Wake up!” Canada whispered excitedly, shaking them all awake. They all groaned and woke up, rubbing themselves. “Ugh… What…” England grumbled, still half-asleep. Canada, beaming brightly, lay his hand on his stomach. “Qu’est ce? What is it?” asked France. Canada rubbed his stomach, and there was a long silence.

Finally, after what felt more like hours rather than minutes, Canada proclaimed the happy news. “I’m pregnant,” he announced proudly. England, France, Ireland and Newfoundland all gasped. “Oh, congratulations,” cried Ireland, getting up from his bed. “We’re so proud of you,” smiled England. France and Newfoundland cooed in delight. They all came together in a big embrace, their arms all interlinked with each other, like paper dolls.

* * *

 

A few months in, and Canada’s bump was beginning to show clearly. Since he always wanted his children to grow up happy and healthy, he tried to live as good-naturedly as possible. He went to one of those ante-natal classes so he could prepare the muscles in his southern region for childbirth. England, France, Ireland, Canada’s other province and territory children and Newfoundland saw his bump growing bigger every day. Alberta and Saskatchewan had just entered mid-childhood, and they were curious to know what was going on inside Canada’s belly. “Think of my belly like an oven,” he told them in a way they could easily understand for their age. “It’s heating up the pie inside.” Alberta and Saskatchewan stared at each other in awe. Canada really knew how to teach them new things!

* * *

 

Canada’s stomach was now as puffy as a water balloon. He sprinted around Big Beach, showing his bump to everyone there. “Wow, Canada’s looking good,” commented Manitoba. British Columbia, who was in late childhood, didn’t agree with his statement. “Beauty isn’t everything in the world,” she argued. “You love your own father just for his appearance? I don’t think so. Love your father for what he is, not what he looks like.” “She’s right,” replied Prince Edward Island. She was in mid-childhood, and she was Canada’s mother, and also (rather illogically) one of his children. New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, although they had just hit puberty, were kissing each other. It was puppy love amongst Canada’s children.

* * *

 

A few more months later, Canada’s stomach was bulging over the hemline of his trousers. “Don’t you think my booty looks big in this?” he laughed to his reflection in the mirror, putting his hands on his behind. His kids and Newfoundland stared at him, then they all sweated nervously. “He’s so honest, isn’t he…” giggled New Brunswick uneasily. “Yes…” agreed Nova Scotia, laughing fretfully too. “Well, that’s what you’d expect from my son… And our Dad,” chuckled Prince Edward Island anxiously. All the other provinces and territories, and Newfoundland, turned to her rapidly, gasping in horror. “It’s true!” she asserted. “Although, actually,” she added, whispering to herself, “I didn’t join the Confederation myself until 1873.” Everyone else (even Newfoundland) made “Are you freaking kidding me?” faces. “It’s historical fact!” she giggled nervously, sweating again.

* * *

 

As the end of Canada’s pregnancy drew nearer, he visited his doctor so he could calculate a due date. “Hmm, according to my calculations, your baby should be born in either April or May,” the doctor read off his calendar, rubbing his chin. “Oh, right. So it’s going to be a spring baby, then. I love spring,” chirped Canada. “Flowers blooming, trees blossoming, the grass so fresh and green…” he sang happily, stroking his bump gently. The doctor chuckled. “Glad to see that,” he smiled. Canada beamed brightly.

* * *

 

England, France, Ireland and Newfoundland heard Canada getting up from his bed for what seemed like the 50th time that night. They heard the door shut and Canada peeing into the toilet. England moaned angrily. “He’s done a wee like a billion times tonight,” he grumbled, trying to get back to sleep. “’Tis normal,” reassured France. “It’s ze baby pushing down on ze bladder.” Ireland heard Canada flushing the toilet. “Shh, he’s coming back,” he whispered. “Get back to sleep, everyone,” murmured Newfoundland. They all went back to sleep as Canada returned to his bed, sighing in relief. “Sorry, eh,” he apologized, as he fell asleep once again.

* * *

 

Canada was now eight months pregnant. At this point, the people of a certain colony were voting on whether to join the Confederation or not. The result would decide whether Canada would give birth to a happy, healthy new province… or a would-have-been stillborn. To the shock (and pleasure) of many, the “Yes” votes came in by a narrow majority to the “No” votes. So Canada’s soon-to-be-born baby’s life was saved by a thread.

* * *

 

Once he had entered the ninth and final month of pregnancy, Canada’s bump was obscuring the top of his trousers so much, that he almost couldn’t see his legs. Sleeping peacefully one rather chilly March night, Canada’s waters broke, spilling all over the bed and soaking it. Immediately afterwards, he was woken up suddenly by a series of sharp, piercing contractions in his stomach. He screamed shrilly, which woke up England, France, Ireland, Newfoundland and his other provinces and territories.

Ireland looked at Canada, and realized that he was about to give birth. He gasped in shock, and dashed to the telephone to dial 911. He asked for an ambulance to the hospital and went back to check on Canada, who was howling in agony, grabbing his stomach. “Calm down, dear,” he comforted him. Canada’s other province and territory children came in and saw their father in great pain. “I guess the pie’s ready,” laughed Alberta. The others told him to shush, and his face fell.

An ambulance soon arrived, and Canada was hauled inside, screaming in extreme discomfort. Everyone else, his other kids included, went inside too. The ambulance set off for the hospital, its siren flashing and wailing.

Once at the hospital, Canada was rushed to the maternity ward, where his midwife saw him in labour. She gasped in horror, rushing up to Canada and taking down his pants and underwear. Canada began to push.

England, France, Ireland, Newfoundland and two doctors were right beside him, as were his other province and territory kids. British Columbia, Alberta, Saskatchewan… Every single one of them watched their father. England and Ireland, being major players in making the baby (France only had a minor part), held Canada’s hand as he pushed hard with the help and encouragement of his midwife, writhing and moaning in agony. Newfoundland, who was also a major player in making the baby, watched Canada bring a new province into his Confederation. He held Canada’s other hand, praying that he would get through okay. One of the doctors grasped hold of a little leg. Canada continued to push, with his midwife encouraging him, the doctors looking out for any parts of the body that emerged from Canada’s southern region, his roommates and Newfoundland watching over him, holding his hands, and his other children watching him too, fearing for his life.

Eventually, Canada gave a final push, screaming so noisily that the windows quaked. He could hear a deep breath, followed by loud bawling. “It’s a boy,” announced Canada’s midwife joyfully. Canada smiled blissfully. So did England, France, Ireland, Newfoundland, and his other province and territory kids. One of the doctors cut his newborn’s son umbilical cord, and the other slapped his backside. Canada pulled the blanket down to just where his southern region began, and one of the doctors lay his newborn son on his bare belly. He screamed shrilly, tears rolling down his face. Canada smiled blissfully at his little son. He basked in the warmth radiating from Canada’s stomach for a short while. “This is a very important stage for both father and baby – it helps them to develop a mutual bond they’ll have for the rest of their lives,” explained British Columbia. All the other provinces and territories stared at her in wonder. How could she know something so profound at such a tender, young age?

England, France, Ireland and Newfoundland admired Canada’s newborn son. “Oh, he’s a lovely little lad,” chirped Ireland, touching and stroking him sweetly. “Mon mignon!” cooed France. “Ooh, what a pretty little face,” warbled England. Newfoundland saw little strands of platinum-blond hair on his newborn son’s bald head. “Aw, he’s gonna have a lighter version of my hair colour,” he tweeted, his hands clasped together.

Newfoundland came closer to Canada and picked up his ‘newfound hands’ – the hands of his newborn son. “Oh! Your hands are teeny-tiny!” he sang sweetly. “And your feet, too. They’re so little,” he added, picking up his feet. Canada smiled, feeling elated. His little son blubbered loudly.

At that moment, barking sounds could be heard. Everyone in the room picked up the sound, looking around themselves, and realized it was coming from behind Alberta. It was a little Labrador puppy! Yapping loudly, it dashed around the room, wagging its tail so fast it appeared as a blur, and panting. Their eyes all followed it around. Because Canada’s newborn son was very sensitive to sounds, his crying went up a level in volume. “Wow! A puppy!” squealed Ontario. “Chien! C’est un chien!” hissed Quebec, obviously trying to impose French in the family (after all, his only official language was French. He preferred it that way!). The puppy stopped beside Canada’s hospital bed and made a huge leap on it, sniffing the sheets and laying down beside Canada. It whimpered desolately, its little tail wagging about. “Aw, so cute…” cooed Prince Edward Island, putting her hands together. The puppy went up to Canada’s newborn son and licked him, making him cry even louder. “Aw! Even cuter!” squealed Prince Edward Island, clasping her hands together even tighter.

Now Canada’s brain was whirring. “Okay, time to name my new province,” he said. Everyone listened to him, even the little beige Labrador. “Every province – or territory for that matter – needs a name when they join my Confederation.” All the others said yes to him, and the pup barked in agreement. Since Canada was an advocate for fairness, he let everyone else think of a name first. Some were sensible, like British Columbia’s suggestion; others were just plain silly, like Ontario’s idea. But every time, they would get yells of disagreement from others. This would make Canada’s newborn son bawl even louder, so Canada tried to calm them down.

Eventually, Canada thought of a name of his own. He curled his arms around his little son. “Newfoundland,” he murmured softly, touching and caressing him so tenderly. That was the name he chose for his newborn son. He cried even louder when he heard that name. England, France and Ireland looked at each other, nodding in agreement. Some of Canada’s other province and territory kids nodded happily too, but others weren’t so sure… Ontario and Quebec laughed nervously, sweating. “He’s so nice…” Ontario giggled fretfully. “That they named him twice!” added Quebec, chuckling anxiously.

Newfoundland Sr. (as he was now officially called) strolled up to the baby version of himself. “Hello, Newfoundland,” he greeted him, touching and fondling him tenderly. It sounded sort of strange, because his name was Newfoundland, and his newborn son’s name was Newfoundland, too. Newfoundland Jr. (as he was now officially named) bawled noisily, tears streaming down his face. Canada beamed brightly. To shield him from the chilly night, he wrapped him up in a soft yellow blanket. Newfoundland Jr.’s crying went on, tears driving down his face.

Newfoundland Sr. carefully curled his arms around Newfoundland Jr. and scooped him up in his arms. He lurched him up and down gently, crooning softly to him. “Oh, my little boy,” he warbled, in his funny accent that no one from any other region of Canada seemed to understand a single word of (not even Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick or Nova Scotia). He embraced him snugly.

Suddenly, he felt something warm and wet on his shirt. He sniffed the air, and caught the revolting odour of ammonia. “Oh, phew! Newfoundland!” he complained, fanning away the stinky air. Newfoundland Jr. bawled very noisily, but everyone around him cooed in delight – and disgust. Newfoundland Sr. moaned loudly, and the puppy barked sharply, wagging his tail speedily. “Welcome to Canada – and the world, Newfoundland, eh?” chuckled Canada, trying to stave off the smell as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada and his family do their very best to care for the newborn province.

Canada took Newfoundland Jr., who was sleeping in his arms, to the living room and set him down on the floor very carefully. Newfoundland Jr. woke up, opening his eyes, and looked around himself. He began to crawl around, exploring the place.

Newfoundland Jr. crawled all over the living room. He sniffed the air, the floor, and various objects around the room. For example, he sniffed the leg of a chair, one of the armchairs, the hat and umbrella stand, and a seagrass basket filled with wild forest berries.

Canada ambled up to Newfoundland Jr., who was sniffing one of the legs on the coffee table. He put his face up close to him, and he turned to be opposite of him. “Hello,” greeted Canada. “My name’s Canada. I’m your father. Well, one of your fathers, anyway.” Newfoundland Jr. made a slightly angry face at Canada, one of his eyebrows raised, confused. He sniffed Canada’s face and feet.

Newfoundland Jr. crawled after Canada, who was going into the bedroom, where England, France and Ireland were. England and France were writing christening invitations to family and friends everywhere, while Ireland was knitting some little boots. Canada indicated his roommates (well, most of them, anyway) to Newfoundland Jr., who crawled up to them, sniffing the air.

England got off his bed and went up to Newfoundland Jr. “Hello. My name’s England. I’m your second father,” he introduced himself. Newfoundland Jr. sniffed England’s face and feet.

France got off his bed too, and went up to him. “Bonjour. Je m’appelle France. I’m your third father,” he greeted him in both French and English, touching and stroking his hair tenderly. Newfoundland Jr. sniffed his face and feet, just like he did with England.

Ireland tied a knot on his string of cream-yellow wool, got off his bed and ambled up to Newfoundland Jr. “Hello, my name’s Ireland,” he introduced himself, touching and stroking his hair sweetly. “I’m your fourth father.” Newfoundland Jr. sniffed his face and feet once again.

Canada went downstairs and out into the back yard, with Newfoundland Jr. crawling after him, sniffing the air. Newfoundland Sr. was preparing a codfish he’d caught in the tepid waters near Old Pier Beach that morning, extracting its bones and filleting it. He got greasy hands from the oil.

Newfoundland Sr. caught sight of his son, and strolled up to him. “Hello, little one. I’m Newfoundland,” he greeted his namesake child. (Again, it sounded kind of strange…) He touched and stroked his hair, getting fishy grease onto it. “I’m your fifth father. And the main one too, along with Canada.” Newfoundland Jr. sniffed his face and feet. Newfoundland Sr. touched and stroked his face, smearing it with cod oil. Newfoundland Jr. took it well, thinking that this was so he could recognize the scent of his “other” father. Newfoundland Sr. massaged the cod oil in, and Newfoundland Jr. relished in the luxurious oleaginousness. He sniffed his ‘other’ father’s face and feet once more.

At that moment, America opened the gate leading into Canada’s back yard and strolled in on them. “Oh, I see my brother’s had a new province join his Confederation,” he sang joyfully. “Here. What’s his name?” “Newfoundland,” Canada replied, smiling. America gasped in shock. “Huh?! I thought you already had a Newfoundland in your party!” he shouted, dazed and sweating. “Well, yes,” nodded Canada. “But this Newfoundland,” he continued, indicating Newfoundland Jr., “has only just joined my Confederation. The other Newfoundland – he’s over there, preparing cod for supper tonight – he’s been about for centuries. Since the end of the 15th century, the history books say.” America was totally dumbfounded, with a poker face. Sweat poured from his forehead. “Huh… It’s so illogical.” “Mmm-hmm. But that’s how it is, eh?” smiled Canada nervously, also sweating anxiously. America made a “Are you freaking kidding me?” face, and Canada grinned fretfully. Newfoundland Jr. sniffed America’s face and feet.

Canada’s other province and territory kids came out into the garden. They all stood in a straight line, west to east, like soldiers. (They were kind of like Canada’s soldiers after all, and Canada was the general…) “Ah, yes. These, they’re my provinces and territories,” announced Canada, beaming brightly. “Oh. So they’re like my states, then?” asked America. “Yeah,” nodded Canada. “Oh, and he’s a province now, too,” he added, pointing to the two Newfoundland’s.

Newfoundland Jr. crawled up to British Columbia, the first in line. “Hello. I’m British Columbia. But some people just call me BC,” she introduced herself. Newfoundland Jr. sniffed her face and feet, then turned to Alberta. “Hi. I’m Alberta,” he greeted. Newfoundland Jr. sniffed his face and feet too, and crawled up to Saskatchewan. “Hi. I’m Saskatchewan,” he introduced himself. Newfoundland Jr. sniffed his face and feet as well.

One by one, Canada’s other provinces and territories introduced themselves to Newfoundland Jr. “Hi there, I’m Manitoba,” greeted Manitoba. “Hi! I’m Ontario!” shouted Ontario obnoxiously and excitedly. “Bonjour, je m’appelle Quebec,” Quebec introduced himself in French. “Hi, je suis New Brunswick,” greeted New Brunswick in both English and French (she was Canada’s only province to be bilingual, knowing both English and French!). “Hello, I’m Nova Scotia,” Nova Scotia greeted in his characteristic, funny Scottish-Canadian (and Maritime) accent. (Just a little detail; he was wearing a sporran with his gown and kilt. Don’t know why, though. A baby being born is a very special occasion, after all…) “Hi, I’m Prince Edward Island, but many people just call me PEI,” Prince Edward Island introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Yukon Territory, or just Yukon,” greeted Yukon. “Hello, I’m Northwest Territories, or just the NWT,” greeted Northwest Territories. After each province or territory had introduced themselves, Newfoundland Jr. would sniff their face and feet to pick up their aroma.

Both America and Newfoundland Jr. noticed that they were all at different stages in their lives. Some were in their adolescence, like Manitoba. Others had just hit puberty, like New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. Some were in late childhood, like British Columbia. Others were in mid-childhood, like Alberta and Saskatchewan. And one of them had just begun his life as a Canadian province – little Newfoundland Jr. himself. Just to get even more of their scent, he sniffed their faces and feet one more time. As a manner of welcoming himself to Canada’s Confederation, he crawled over to the spot next to Nova Scotia and turned to face Canada, America and Newfoundland Sr.

America nodded as he looked at all of Canada’s provinces and territories. But then, as an extra surprise, the little beige Labrador from earlier rushed in, barking like mad. It crouched down beside Newfoundland Jr., whimpering despondently, wagging its tail very fast. “Aw! A little puppy,” crooned America blissfully, clasping his hands together. “I thought, what would go well with the name ‘Newfoundland’? Why, ‘Labrador’, of course!” giggled British Columbia. (Although, as a matter of historical fact, Newfoundland wasn’t officially named ‘Newfoundland & Labrador’ until many, many years after when this is happening, in 2001. But they just stick with simply ‘Newfoundland’ for the time being, so…) Canada, America and Newfoundland Sr. all smiled. “I see what you did there,” they all laughed in unity. Canada’s other province and territory kids laughed all together too. Newfoundland Jr. took all the praise and glory in, basking in the sunny aura of splendour. Labrador (as the puppy was now officially named) barked joyfully, panting and wagging his tail rapidly.

America looked at Canada’s other province and territory kids again, nodding once more. “If you think you have it hard with twelve children, Canada,” he told his great northern neighbour, “you should see my states.” “How many?” asked Canada. “Forty-eight,” replied America, nodding because he was telling the truth.

Canada gasped in horror, sweating fretfully. “Forty-eight?!” he shouted in shock. Canada’s province and territory kids and Newfoundland Sr. overheard their conversation and gasped in horror too, sweating nervously. “Uh-huh,” replied America, nodding again. “But what he doesn’t know,” he whispered to the audience, “is that in ten years’ time, I’ll have two more states join my Union – Alaska and Hawaii.” Everyone else heard that and gasped in horror even more loudly, their eyes swirls, hovering in the air for a second, and then fainting instantly. Newfoundland Jr.’s eyes turned towards the blue sky with fluffy white clouds, as if he was thinking about something. He shrugged, exhaling through his nose, and Labrador whimpered even louder, wagging his tail even faster. “That’s just how it goes,” murmured America to the audience, shrugging and smiling rather sadly.

* * *

 

A little later on, Newfoundland Sr. was giving Newfoundland Jr. his first meal; creamed corn from a pot. Canada, America, France, Ireland and Canada’s other province and territory kids watched them both. He made sounds like an aeroplane as he waved the spoon around his little son. Newfoundland Jr. followed his lunch with his eyes. His father dunked the spoon into his mouth, and he swallowed his food down contentedly. “Good boy!” he praised him, stroking and touching his hair. Newfoundland Jr. took in the approval, and his father continued to feed him with his creamed corn, praising him every time he ate his food.

* * *

 

Canada’s province and territory kids and Newfoundland Sr. were all asleep in their room. Newfoundland Jr. was fast asleep in his cot, sucking his thumb. Everybody seemed to be in a deep sleep.

Suddenly, Newfoundland Jr. urinated in his pants. He woke up and shrieked shrilly, waking everyone in the house up. A light turned on outside. “Ugh…” moaned everyone, getting up from their beds, especially Newfoundland Sr. He went over to his son and caught the awful stench of ammonia. “Phew, Newfoundland…” he complained, scooping him up, holding his nose. He dashed out of his bedroom and into the bathroom, turning on the light.

Newfoundland Sr. lay his son down on the bench beside the sink. Newfoundland Jr. writhed and squalled with the itchy, warm, wet feeling in his southern region. “Shh, shh, I’m going to change you,” his father cooed. He fetched some talcum powder, wet wipes and a fresh, clean diaper from the cupboard underneath the sink, and placed them beside his son.

Newfoundland Sr. unzipped Newfoundland Jr.’s onesie and untied the knot on the side of his wet diaper. He then removed it slowly. However, as he did so, Newfoundland Jr. relaxed his bladder and released a stream of urine into his face, splashing everywhere – even on his clothes. “Argh! Ugh! Ah! Ooh! Hah!” hooted Newfoundland Sr., as his son’s southern rain sprayed onto his clothes. Newfoundland Jr. exhaled through his nose.

The bathroom door was thrown open, revealing Canada, his roommates, and his other province and territory kids. “Oh, my God!” cried Canada, slapping his cheeks with his palms. His province and territory kids gasped in extreme shock and horror, frozen in mid-air for a second, their eyes all swirly, and they all fainted again. “Oh, my nerves…” moaned Newfoundland Sr. slightly, dripping wet. “Oh, Newfoundland!” he moaned even louder. “You’re a right old fool, boy!” Newfoundland Jr. fell asleep on the bench, his southern region still bare. England, France and Ireland went nutty from the horrible smell and awful, disgusting, embarrassing sights of an angry Newfoundland Sr. dripping with urine, and Newfoundland Jr.’s naked south.

* * *

 

Canada got into the car with all his province and territory kids, England, France, Ireland and Newfoundland Sr., all wearing their formal costumes. He was carrying Newfoundland Jr., who was wearing a pretty little white silken frock, in his arms. Nova Scotia was wearing his sporran, like he always did for very special occasions like today. New Brunswick was wearing a full-bodice dress with a frilly apron tied at the back and black-and-white striped tights beneath. Newfoundland Sr. was wearing a black suit with a yellow shirt and a blue tie underneath. The driver took them to the church, which was in a little village just outside the city.

Once they had arrived, everyone disembarked and strolled towards the church. Everyone was there. Japan, China, Russia, Australia, New Zealand, Scotland, America, Argentina, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Denmark, Germany, Italy… Pretty much everyone you could think of was there. America had brought along his state children, and they were sitting on a huge balcony just above the main part of the church. A black gospel choir were standing at the far back of the church, all wearing angelic-white tunics.

The priest was looking through his book of hymns, a pedestal filled with holy water standing proudly in front of him. Suddenly, the doors burst open, and Canada, his province and territory kids and his roommates all rushed into the church excitedly. Canada held onto Newfoundland Jr. firmly. The priest saw them coming and gasped in horror, sweating nervously. Everyone in the church (even America’s state kids) looked at them, their eyes wide.

“Ooh! Sorry about that, eh?” chuckled Canada fretfully, sweating anxiously. The priest sighed, annoyed. “Is this how you come in to a christening?” he asked rather angrily. “Go back outside and come inside again in the proper manner.” They all moaned loudly, and went back outside to come back inside again in a dignified, serious way. The priest shook his head rather crossly, and everyone in the church murmured to each other.

The doors opened slowly, and Canada and his friends walked slowly and seriously into the church. Canada held Newfoundland Jr. close to his body. “That’s better,” though the priest happily, smiling. Everyone watched them as they strolled at a leisurely, steady pace down the aisle. They all sat down on the pews, and the priest greeted everyone. They greeted him back.

The priest began to give his sermon. Since today was a christening, his homily was about the gift of life. The entire church listened to his lecture. Some were genuinely serious about their religion and listened to him with interest; others weren’t as serious, and either just laughed it off, yawned or fell asleep because of lethargy and boredom. The priest got annoyed with those who didn’t find his allocution thought-provoking and enlightening. Oddly enough, Newfoundland Jr., fledgling as he was, stayed awake throughout the whole sermon. He waved his little hands up in the air. “I’m so proud of you, Newfoundland,” Newfoundland Sr. whispered softly in his ear. Newfoundland Jr. took the compliment, and continued to listen to the priest’s oration. Canada smiled brightly.

Once the priest had finished giving his proclamation, he called for the parents to step up with the baby – Canada, England, France, Ireland, Newfoundland Sr. and Newfoundland Jr., that is. They all strolled slowly up to the pedestal, with Canada carrying Newfoundland Jr. in his arms snugly. Scotland, America, Australia and New Zealand, and Canada’s other province and territory kids followed them.

Canada, his kids and his friends all stepped up to the pedestal, dignified. Canada slowly lowered Newfoundland Jr. into the holy water to officially name him. But just as he did so…

A few inches away from the water, Newfoundland Jr. suddenly perked up. “Bay!” he chirped joyfully. Everyone in the church, even Canada and the priest himself, gasped in shock. “Bay, bay, bay! Bay!” Newfoundland Jr. continued chirping cheerfully.

Scotland, Ireland, France and America all stared in astonishment for a few seconds. Newfoundland Jr. smiled brightly at them, his little blue eyes looking at theirs.

Suddenly, they all screamed in horror, their hands slapping their cheeks. “Ack! He spoke! The lad spoke!” screeched Scotland. “Oh, good heavens!” exclaimed Ireland. “Oh, my God!” cried America. “Sacre-bleu!” screamed France.

Canada, Newfoundland Sr. and all the other provinces and territories stared in bewilderment at Newfoundland Jr. “Bay, bay. Bay, bay, bay,” he murmured softly, looking serious. Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and Newfoundland Sr. gawked at him, their mouths gaping open in disbelief. “Here, what did you say?” Prince Edward Island asked Newfoundland Jr. “Say it again.” “Bay!” chirruped Newfoundland Jr. clearly. “Eh? Say again? We couldn’t hear you.” “Bay!” warbled Newfoundland Jr. coherently. “Still can’t hear you.” “Bay!” tweeted Newfoundland Jr. tangibly, in his endearing, famously incomprehensible strong regional accent.

Everybody stared in shock for a few seconds… Then the whole church went totally crazy. Some began to tie knots in their head, while others fell to their knees and prayed. But Canada, Newfoundland Sr. and the priest stayed sane amongst all the insanity. Canada smiled at his little new province. “Aw, your very first word, Newfoundland,” he beamed brightly, touching and stroking him tenderly. “I’m so proud.” “Bay, bay,” cooed Newfoundland Jr. gently. Newfoundland Sr. agreed with him, nodding and smiling, too.

The priest noticed everyone in the church going mad. “Alright, everyone, sit down. We’ve got a baby to baptize.” They all listened to him, hovering in mid-air for a second, their eyes all swirls. Then they all sat down at the pews again, calming down. “Thank you,” the priest said, nodding.

Canada lowered Newfoundland Jr. very slowly into the water. “So what will he be baptized?” the priest asked. Canada came closer to the priest and whispered the name he’d thought of earlier into his ear.

The priest nodded in agreement, and Canada lowered Newfoundland Jr. into the water even slower. The priest took a handful of the holy water and spilled it over Newfoundland Jr.’s little head. The young new province basked in the cool and refreshing feeling that washed over his crown. He then scooped him up in his arms and held him up high in the air for everyone in the church. “His name is Newfoundland Brigus Heart’s Content O’Reilly,” he announced to the whole congregation. Everybody began to cheer passionately. “NEWFOUNDLAND! NEWFOUNDLAND! NEWFOUNDLAND! NEWFOUNDLAND!” they chanted with great spirit.

Some of the congregation agreed with the name, and kept on cheering “Newfoundland” over and over zealously. Prince Edward Island cooed with delight. “Aw, what a sweet-sounding name for our new province,” she tweeted sweetly, clasping her hands together. Canada nodded in approval.

Others, however, didn’t know what the name was supposed to mean, and either shook their heads, saying “Nuh-uh,” sneered deridingly, or laughed at the comical name in the middle. Ontario and Quebec giggled to each other. “So funny,” he whispered in his ear, chuckling. “Je sais,” replied Quebec in French, also chuckling. Canada, all his other province and territory kids and his roommates and friends told them to be quiet. Both Ontario and Quebec’s faces fell, and they moaned loudly. “Bay, bay. Bay, bay, bay!” crooned Newfoundland Jr., seriously at first, then cheerfully.

The priest turned to the choir at the back. He indicated them to start singing, which they did. They began to sing an upbeat song that thanked God for this beautiful new life that had been brought down to Earth, in typical evangelist fashion. Everybody in the church got up onto their feet and began to dance and sing the song. Some tossed their hats in the air and clapped their hands loudly. The priest, Canada, his roommates, his province and territory kids and Newfoundland Sr. all smiled in unity at the dancing and singing congregation.

* * *

 

That night, everybody had a great big party in a little cottage on a farm just near the church. England brought his county children, America brought his state children, and Australia brought his territory children. And of course, Canada brought his province and territory children – the two Newfoundland’s included. Newfoundland Jr. was in Newfoundland Sr.’s arms, his little silky white frock smelling slightly musky. Everybody was dancing to the large selection of music at the party. There were jazz, romantic ballads, rag songs, bagpipe and fiddle songs, and traditional folk tunes. Because Canada’s new province was called Newfoundland, they played traditional Newfoundland folk songs, accordions, fiddles, sea shanties and all. There was also lots of traditional Maritime cuisine – fiddleheads, cod tongues, bakeapple pie, blueberry grunt, and of course (much to Nova Scotia’s delight and chagrin), lobster.

Canada, America, Australia and England watched their children dance together. Massachusetts danced with Prince Edward Island. Pennsylvania danced with Devon. Ontario danced with New South Wales. And, as expected, New Brunswick danced with Nova Scotia. Everyone had a partner to dance with.

Canada looked at his children dancing, then at Newfoundland Jr. “Bay, bay!” he crooned sweetly, stretching his arms out. Canada smiled, then he chuckled heartily. “Eh, Newfoundland,” he laughed, touching and feeling his frock, “ever since you said your first word at the christening, I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve said ‘Bay’ today.” “Bay, bay. Bay, bay, bay,” tweeted Newfoundland Jr., stretching his arms out again. Canada beamed brightly, and so did Newfoundland Sr.

Manitoba, Ontario and Quebec were dancing on top of a table that had uneaten food and drinks on it. New Brunswick and Nova Scotia were right beside them, and pieces of food were flying onto the made-for-each-other couple. Ontario tapped a wine glass with his heel and the red wine splashed everywhere, staining the tablecloth a deep ruby colour and spilling onto the floor. Ontario then tapped another wine glass with his heel, and it came tumbling down to the floor, landing with a huge CRASH! Nova Scotia heard the entire ruckus and went up to the troublesome threesome. He told them sharply to get off the table, which they complied with.

Nova Scotia looked down at the broken wine glass on the floor, and moaned loudly. He took Manitoba, Ontario and Quebec and gave them a good old shouting at. The angry tone of his voice was enough to make them snivel, kneel on the floor begging for mercy, and shudder in fear. For a boy of his age, he had quite a temper!

* * *

 

Everyone at the party was brought together for a toast to Canada and his roommates, Newfoundland Sr. and Newfoundland Jr. Japan stood at the end of the table, holding a glass filled with white wine in his hand. “Here’s to Canada,” he announced. “To Canada,” repeated everyone, sipping a little bit of whatever they had – be it alcoholic or non-alcoholic. “Here’s to England.” “To England.” They sipped a little more of their drinks. “Here’s to France.” “To France.” They sipped a bit more. “Here’s to Ireland.” “To Ireland.” They sipped another bit more. “Here’s to Newfoundland Sr.” “To Newfoundland Sr.” They sipped a little more again. “Here’s to Canada’s provinces and territories…” “To Canada’s provinces and territories.” They sipped a little bigger bit of their drinks. “And finally, here’s to Newfoundland Jr.; for him recently joining the Canadian Confederation, to wishing him a great and prosperous life as a Canadian Province, and to be a law-abiding citizen.” “To Newfoundland Jr.,” everyone repeated one last time. They all clinked their glasses together and took huge sips of their drinks.

Manitoba, Ontario and Quebec took huge gulps of their drinks, belching loudly afterwards. “Ugh, horrible!” complained New Brunswick. Nova Scotia grumbled, then he unleashed his vast fury once again on them, shouting at them noisily to intimidate them into shivering intensely and blubbing. “Good job, Nova Scotia,” praised New Brunswick. Nova Scotia smiled at her.

* * *

 

After the dinner, everyone was invited to sing a song together. They all went up on the stage at the back and stood up, facing the audience. The musicians at the back began to play their instruments, and everyone began to sing the song – called “A New Day”. “A new life has begun. Here comes the sun. Our land has had a new son, and he knows what’s to be won…” they all crooned softly. But Ontario was singing in an unenthusiastic way, as if he didn’t want to sing at all. He was singing slightly off-key, but no one seemed to notice.

“We all come together as one. It’s all kinda fun…” everyone continued to sing, but then Ontario shouted out loud obnoxiously, “But then again, where’s the bun?!” “ONTARIO!” screamed Prince Edward Island shrilly. Everyone else complained and left the stage, grumbling. Nova Scotia went up to Ontario and loosened his black ribbon, then draped it over his shoulders. He ripped a huge one all over Ontario, a cloud of ‘cocoa powder’ gusting all over him. Ontario writhed with the horrible stench. Nova Scotia huffed with discontent, his face in the air, and stormed off, furious. Canada and Newfoundland Sr., who was carrying Newfoundland Jr. in his arms, went up to Ontario and folded their arms. “Ontario, you naughty boy,” said Canada sternly. “You right fool,” grumbled Newfoundland Sr. “Leave right now. You’re so disobedient. Think before you act,” lectured Canada. “Bay, bay. Bay, bay, bay,” said Newfoundland Jr. angrily, folding his arms. Ontario began to cry, and he hid behind a bush, sobbing sadly. “Serves him right,” said Newfoundland Sr., smiling rather angrily. “Yes,” replied Canada, nodding. “Bay, bay. Bay, bay, bay,” Newfoundland Jr. chirped, rather crossly at first, then joyfully.

* * *

 

All of Canada’s province and territory children and Newfoundland Sr. were getting into their beds. Newfoundland Jr. urinated in his pants. “Bay, bay,” he tweeted uncomfortably. Newfoundland Sr. sighed, smelling the ammonia in the air, and took him off to the bathroom to change him.

Ontario was still crying. He remembered what Canada and Newfoundland Sr. had told him at the party. He sobbed uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t cry, Ontario,” Manitoba comforted him. But Ontario just continued wailing. Nova Scotia broke wind loudly, making his duvet fly up in the air and a cloud of ‘chocolate dust’ emanating from his rear.

Newfoundland Sr. came back from the bathroom with Newfoundland Jr., who was wearing a fresh, dry diaper. He put him into his cot, pulling a soft blanket over him. He fell asleep immediately. Labrador was sleeping in his little basket just beside Newfoundland Jr.’s cot. “My little ducky,” Newfoundland Sr. cooed sweetly to his son, touching and stroking him tenderly. He got into his own bed and went to sleep.

Almost every one of Canada’s provinces and territories was now fast asleep, but Ontario was still wailing noisily. He wept for quite a long time. Nova Scotia lifted his leg up slightly and farted quite loudly, making his duvet fly up in the air again, and another cloud of ‘chocolate powder’ blustered from his posterior. Ontario plumped up his pillow to soften it a bit, pulled his duvet over himself and cried himself to sleep.

* * *

 

Everybody in the family tried to contribute in some way to Newfoundland Jr.’s development. For example, British Columbia would feed him his meals. England would change his wet diapers. Saskatchewan would grow some wheat in the garden to make flour for rusk biscuits for him to snack on. Ireland would knit some little things, such as dolls or baby boots. Prince Edward Island would whistle and call his name sweetly, so that he could recognize her by her voice. Nova Scotia would play some tunes on his fiddle to help him develop a good taste in music. And Newfoundland Sr. would croon some traditional Newfoundland songs to help him go to sleep, rocking him back and forth in his arms. Occasionally, when the family were out, America would come over from next door and care for him, so that he could recognize him as his good southern neighbour.

Thinking about the benefits of learning more than one language, the family began to do just this to Newfoundland Jr. France and Quebec taught him French, and Ireland and Nova Scotia taught him Gaelic. (Not that I’m completely fluent in Gaelic, of course…) And Newfoundland Sr.? Why, he taught him ‘Newfie’ English, of course. (He intentionally wants his son to have an accent that is widely mocked and practically unintelligible by people from other regions of Canada. Are you satisfied with that, Newfoundland Sr.?) British Columbia was always there beside him, teaching him ‘normal’ Canadian English too. She would be like the family’s personal interpreter!

* * *

 

Newfoundland Jr. watched the world change around him. Everybody began to own a TV set; families began to break up; the contraceptive pill came about; divorce became more commonplace. A nuclear missile crisis was avoided by seconds; an American President was assassinated (much to America’s despondency); blacks finally gained equality with whites (well, mostly); Canada celebrated his centenary (as did Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia); the Quebec separatist party were voted into power in that province (much to Quebec’s bliss and everyone else’s horror); the AIDS epidemic raged; and the Internet began to boom. But no matter how much the world transformed, Newfoundland Jr. always seemed to stay the same; although he was actually growing up, he always seemed to be trapped in the body (and mind) of a 1-year-old boy.

Sadly, during this time, all the cod around the Newfoundland coast all but disappeared from the sea, because of fishermen’s irresponsibility. This brought nearly six centuries of fishing for fresh cod to an abrupt and sad end. Newfoundland Sr. cried for weeks nearly non-stop after hearing the sad news. Newfoundland Jr. was in his arms, looking at his father with care. Canada, England, France, Ireland and all of Canada’s other province and territory kids were all gathered around the two Newfoundland’s, gazing sadly at them both. “Where will I catch our fish now?!” Newfoundland Sr. wailed noisily, his face buried in his hands, tears rolling down his face. “Bay, bay, bay,” Newfoundland Jr. chirped sadly. Canada felt a tear roll down his face too. He hated seeing one of his provinces (or territories, for that matter) going through bad times, but he knew that as their father, he would always be there for them.

At the end of the millennium, Canada got pregnant again, this time from Yukon and Northwest Territories, and gave birth to a brand-new territory – Nunavut. Everybody from the family was there. The minute she left Canada’s belly, Newfoundland Jr. felt that she was made for him. He watched her bask in the warmth radiating from Canada’s stomach, stark-naked and bawling loudly. He lay down right next to her, feeling something in his young heart; he and Nunavut seemed to share something in common with each other. It was puppy love; Newfoundland Jr. was still a relatively young province (he was only 50 years old in actual years, although his perceived age was 2 years old), and Nunavut had only just started her life as a territory. “New, new, Newfoundland,” he tweeted sweetly at her. Nunavut screamed even louder, tears streaming down her face. Canada smiled brightly at the baby couple. Labrador leaped up onto the bed and lay beside Nunavut, wagging his tail very fast. He licked her, making her wailing increase even more in volume. Newfoundland Sr. regarded them all with adoration. He seemed proud of his son having his first love. “Aw, such a sweet sight…” cooed Prince Edward Island, clasping her hands together tightly. New Brunswick and Nova Scotia looked into each other’s eyes with tenderness, then they kissed each other passionately. Ontario and Quebec looked at them disgustedly and covered their eyes, cringing and putting out one hand to them. Nunavut went on wailing noisily, tears raining down her face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada and his family look towards a bright future with his new province.

One day, the whole family went to the play park in the north of the city. Canada was carrying Nunavut in a little papoose on the front, and walking Labrador. Newfoundland Sr. sat down at a picnic table and put his picnic basket down. He took out some fish fingers, a packet of potato chips, some sandwiches with various fillings, a few chocolate bars and some little pots of various desserts, like custard, jelly and ice cream. Even though the sky was blue and the sun was shining warmly, he was wearing his yellow rain hat. (Maybe to shield from the sun?) He watched Newfoundland Jr. climb onto the slide and sit at the top. Prince Edward Island pushed him, and he zipped down the slide. She went over to the other end and caught him in her arms. He squealed blissfully, clapping his hands. “Bay, bay, bay!” chirruped Newfoundland Jr. happily. Prince Edward Island giggled. “Oh, you’re such a beautiful little boy,” she sang, tickling him all over. Newfoundland Jr. giggled too with the pleasant tingling sensation. “New, new! Newfoundland!” he warbled. Prince Edward Island smiled. “Here, I’ll put you down,” she said, and she placed him down on the ground. “New-new,” chirped Newfoundland Jr. sweetly. Prince Edward Island smiled again, and he skipped off to the Kids’ Shed.

Newfoundland Jr. sprinted behind the shed. New Brunswick and Nova Scotia were making out amorously with each other, their hands on each other’s hips. Nova Scotia loosened his black ribbon and wound it around New Brunswick’s neck, pulling her closer to him. His lovely crooning turned into passionate moaning, and soon New Brunswick’s did too. Newfoundland Jr. watched in confusion and awe. Nova Scotia moaned loudly and fervently as New Brunswick touched his kilt region, French-kissing him. Newfoundland Jr. watched in shock and horror, his mouth and eyes gaping wide open, staring in the audience’s direction. He simply could not believe what he was witnessing. He giggled nervously, sweating fretfully, and decided to leave quickly and right now so he couldn’t see… the birds and the bees. (Potentially.)

Newfoundland Jr. sprinted towards the centre of the park. “New, new, Newfoundland,” he chirped, scanning the whole place. Then he spotted the love of his life, Nunavut, crawling around in a little playpen just beside the jungle gym. “Bay, bay! Bay, bay, bay!” he cheered, clapping his hands together. He skipped over to the pen and climbed over the fence, landing on his feet. “Bay,” he sighed in relief, dusting himself off.

Newfoundland Jr. set his eyes on Nunavut, who crawled around to face him. Her hazel eyes looked directly into his blue eyes. Newfoundland Jr. felt something beautiful in his heart, and he cooed lovingly. “Bay,” he crooned softly. He came closer to her very slowly. “Nun?” said Nunavut. “Bay, bay, bay…” warbled Newfoundland Jr. mellifluously. “Nun, nun,” Nunavut sighed rather happily. Newfoundland Jr. lay stomach-down on the ground beside her, his eyes looking straight into hers. “New-new,” he warbled sweetly. “Nun-nun,” Nunavut tweeted back. Newfoundland Jr. rolled onto his side, still regarding Nunavut with adoration. “New, new, new,” he chirped. “Nun, nun, nun,” Nunavut chirped back.

Newfoundland Jr. then thought of something romantic to say to Nunavut. “New, new. New, new, new-new?” Newfoundland Jr. asked, his infamously incoherent accent clear. Nunavut’s eyes looked up to the sky, as if she was thinking about how she would answer. Then she looked back at Newfoundland Jr. “Nun, nun. Nun, nun, nun, Nunavut!” she replied happily, smiling brightly. Newfoundland Jr. smiled too. “New, new. New, new, new, Newfoundland!” he chirped cheerfully. “Bay, bay, bay, bay!” “Nun nun,” sang Nunavut joyfully. “New new, bay bay,” Newfoundland Jr. happily sang back.

Newfoundland Jr. stood up from the ground and left the pen, climbing over the fence again. “New bay…” he sighed lovingly, his hand on his heart. “Nun nun…” Nunavut sighed amorously too. She crawled back over to her little racing car and shunted it along.

Newfoundland Jr. saw Alberta and Saskatchewan on the seesaw. They were shouting at each other amicably. “I’m going up!” yelled Alberta. “I’m going down!” Saskatchewan yelled back. And vice versa. Newfoundland Jr. smiled. “New-new,” he crooned. He skipped on towards the back of the park.

Newfoundland Jr. saw a bush with blueberries blooming on it.  “New-new, bay-bay!” he chirped cheerfully. He went over to the berries so that he could pick some for Newfoundland Sr. to make into blueberry grunt. But as he reached out for one of the berries…

Manitoba, Ontario and Quebec, dressed in scary costumes, suddenly leaped up from behind the bush. “YAHHHHHH!” they all screeched very noisily, their hands like the talons of an eagle. Newfoundland Jr. gasped and screamed in horror, almost losing control of his full bladder. “Bay, bay, bay, bay!” he shrieked, frightened out of his wits, dashing away. Manitoba, Ontario and Quebec all whipped off their intimidating costumes and guffawed rowdily in unity.

Newfoundland Jr. stopped a few metres away from the picnic table where Newfoundland Sr. was sitting. “Bay-bay, bay-bay,” he moaned, pulling his jacket and shirt over the crotch area of his trousers, crossing his legs to try and hold it in. He slackened his hold and scanned around the place hastily, nervous. “New, new, bay, bay,” he babbled speedily as he scanned around.

All of a sudden, Newfoundland Jr.’s bladder relaxed itself, and he urinated in his pants, a wet patch materializing on the crotch area. The awful stench of ammonia was in the air. The grass beneath him soaked up the puddle of urine, deoxidizing and transforming from a lush spring green to a repulsive earth brown. Newfoundland Jr. looked down at himself. “Bay, bay! Bay, bay, bay!” he whinged despondently.

Newfoundland Sr. caught the smell of ammonia in the air. “Oh, my God!” he exclaimed loudly. Newfoundland Jr. whined and dashed over to his father, huddling up in his lap. He quaked in fright, an itchy, balmy and moist feeling in his trousers’ crotch region. Newfoundland Sr. sighed angrily, then he curled his arms around him with care.

Canada, carrying Nunavut in his papoose, Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, all of the family – rushed over to the two Newfoundland’s. Newfoundland Jr. writhed around, feeling panicky. Newfoundland Sr. tried to keep firm hold of him. “Newfoundland, please,” he asked of him. Newfoundland Jr. moaned loudly, and let loose a high-pitched, stinky fart, a little cloud of sulphur gas gusting from his behind. “Oh, my nerves…” Newfoundland Sr. grumbled, holding his nose and fanning away the malodourous air. Manitoba, Ontario and Quebec came along. Ontario had a road map of Newfoundland & Labrador (as the province was now officially named) in his hand, and he went up to the two Newfoundland’s, snickering. “Hey, Newfoundland…” he said, laughing. He opened up the map and showed it to Newfoundland Jr. “You know there’s a town in your province called Jerry’s Nose?” He indicated it on the map, and Newfoundland Jr. wriggled about, whimpering. “How about Too Good Arm?” sniggered Ontario, indicating that on the map. Newfoundland Jr. writhed around, moaning. “Or Come-By-Chance?” Newfoundland Jr. moaned again, wriggling about. “Or how about Random Island? Nameless Cove? Joe Batt’s Arm? Goobies? Or Blow Me Down?” Newfoundland Jr. wriggled about even more, moaning even louder. Ontario sneered again. “Or, how about… Wait for it… Wait for it… Wait for it…” He searched the map, his eyes darting around all over it, snickering. Newfoundland Jr. moaned in anticipation and nervousness, shivering. Ontario found the place he was looking for, and whipped the map out in front of him. “DILDO!” Ontario screamed boisterously and obnoxiously, pointing at the rude name on the map. He, Manitoba and Quebec roared wildly with laughter, rolling around on the floor in knots.

Newfoundland Sr. gasped in horror, and Newfoundland Jr. moaned really loudly, shuddering. He leaped up in the air, extremely furious. “HOW DARE YOU MAKE FUN OF MY PROVINCE’S PLACE NAMES! MY PROVINCE DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE THE SUBJECT OF SUCH FOOLISH ATROCITY AND DISCOURTESY!” he yelled irately, in his famously incomprehensible accent. Newfoundland Jr. turned around to face them, his face extremely infuriated as well. “NEW! NEW! NEW, NEW, NEW!” he screamed shrilly. “BAY! BAY! BAY, BAY! BAY, BAY, BAY, BAY!”

Manitoba, Ontario and Quebec all gasped in horror. Canada stepped over to them angrily. “You are in big trouble, young man,” he told Ontario very sternly. “BIG trouble.” Labrador growled at him angrily. Ontario gasped in horror again, and Canada grabbed him roughly by the wrist, dragging him off for Nova Scotia to punish him. Manitoba and Quebec stared after them, with poker faces. Newfoundland Sr. and Newfoundland Jr. both sweated nervously. “This is just more and more humiliation burdened onto us. Sometimes the names of our towns is a great ground for us to be ashamed to be Newfoundlanders…” Newfoundland Sr. chuckled fretfully. “New, new, bay, bay,” agreed Newfoundland Jr., smiling nervously.

* * *

 

Newfoundland Sr. was bringing back the dry laundry in the pink tub up to his room. He placed the tub down, opened up the wardrobe and began to sort the clothes out, storing them in the wardrobe. Newfoundland Jr. skipped in and sat on the bed, watching his father work.

When he had finished sorting out the laundry, Newfoundland Sr. closed the wardrobe doors and put the tub away. Newfoundland Jr. urinated in his pants, a wet patch on his trousers and on the duvet. Newfoundland Sr. caught the awful stink of ammonia in the air, sniffing the air. He turned around slowly, and saw his son on the bed. “Oh, my nerves!” Newfoundland Sr. shouted angrily. He rushed over and picked up Newfoundland Jr. “Ohh! I just got the dry clothes back, and you do this?! Ugh! So disrespectful! So disgraceful! Ooh boy…” He sat his son down on the floor and removed all the covers from the bed, grumbling. “New, new, bay, bay,” moaned Newfoundland Jr. forlornly. Newfoundland Sr. got the tub out again and dumped the wet bedclothes in it, snarling at Newfoundland Jr., making him whine and shiver with anxiety.

Newfoundland Sr. carried the tub in one arm and Newfoundland Jr. in another. He took them both downstairs to the kitchen.

Newfoundland Sr. opened the washing machine door and stuffed the wet bedclothes, shutting the door afterwards. He poured some detergent and fabric conditioner into the tray, then shutting it. Newfoundland Jr. looked on in dread. Newfoundland Sr. started up the machine, scowling at his son, who shivered in distress. He took him up angrily to the bathroom to change him.

* * *

 

Canada, his family and America were all gathered around the barbecue, listening to Newfoundland Sr.’s interesting stories and eating their food. Newfoundland Jr. was comfortably in his arms. The heat from the barbecue radiated all around, making the atmosphere warm and comfy. Labrador was sitting beside the two Newfoundland’s, wagging his tail happily.

“So that’s why,” Newfoundland Sr. was finishing a story off. Everybody stared in awe. “Wow, Newfoundland sure knows how to tell stories,” America whistled. Newfoundland Jr. looked up at his father seriously. “He sure does,” he crooned sweetly, smiling.

Prince Edward Island waved her hand in the air. “So let’s get this straight,” she said. “You’re saying that John Cabot didn’t really land on the coast of Newfoundland all those centuries ago? Like, it’s just a myth?” “Well, boy, it’s commonly held belief,” replied Newfoundland Sr. “It might not be true. To add even more confusion to the legend, some say he also landed on the coast of Nova Scotia in the same year.”

Nova Scotia swallowed a ball of lobster’s meat and gasped in astonishment. He lifted himself off the ground slightly and broke wind very loudly, a cloud of ‘cocoa powder’ emanating from his backside. New Brunswick complained about the awful smell and waved the stinky air away. “Sorry,” he apologized, and she accepted his apology.

Newfoundland Sr. looked at both the Maritime soulmates. “Eh boy, it’s either history or mystery,” he remarked, smiling. “But I guess that adds to its captivation and enchantment.” Newfoundland Jr. squealed joyfully. “My daddy knows so much about our origins!” he chirped cheerfully. Newfoundland Sr. chuckled nervously, sweating fretfully.

Canada looked at his (still) young province. “I’ve found some cod in the frozen Arctic waters, so maybe you can start fishing again after all, Newfoundland,” he said, smiling. Newfoundland Sr. gasped happily. “Really? Oh boy. So all hope is not lost, then,” he beamed brightly. “There’s always light at the end of the tunnel,” Canada smiled. “Or, to put it in a ‘typical’ Maritime way... whenever it’s a dark tempestuous night and a storm is raging in the ocean, the lighthouse of life will always guide you,” Nova Scotia pontificated, also smiling. Everybody was impressed with his way of articulating it – even the troublesome threesome, Manitoba, Ontario and Quebec. “Ooh! Good one!” Newfoundland Jr. cheered, clapping his hands together. “I agree. Great vocabulary, Nova Scotia,” Newfoundland Sr. nodded in appreciation. Nova Scotia took the compliment well, smiling with them.

“So, I think Newfoundland’s gotten off to a great start as a Canadian province,” said Canada. “Sure, he’s been through some bad times. But there’ll be good times, and there’ll be bad times. That’s life. I think Newfoundland is making a great contribution to our country’s quality of life, don’t you all agree?”

“YES!” everyone agreed in unity, even America and the troublesome threesome. Labrador barked happily in consonance. “Yeah! That’s what I love to hear!” cheered Canada joyfully. “He sure is,” smiled New Brunswick, and everybody laughed heartily in harmony, Labrador barking gleefully.

Newfoundland Jr. looked into Nunavut’s eyes, and she looked back into his. That wonderful feeling emerged again in his heart. Nunavut’s felt the same too. He giggled sunnily, and she smiled gleefully. Newfoundland Sr. looked down at Newfoundland Jr., and he smiled joyfully. He knew that Newfoundland Jr. and Nunavut were made for each other; they were soulmates, just like New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. Labrador panted happily, his tongue hanging out from his mouth. It was true puppy love.

** THE END! **


End file.
